


Apple picking and babysitting

by StarrySkies282



Series: Heaven Help a Fool Who Falls in Love [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable Wanda Maximoff, Also I’m Bad at Summaries, Autumn, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Confessions, Domestic, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Laura knows, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, The Barton kids - Freeform, apple picking, just projecting my love of autumn here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 00:36:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarrySkies282/pseuds/StarrySkies282
Summary: “I’m sorry it’s such short notice, Tasha,” came Clint’s voice on the other end of the line. “I booked it ages ago and I guess I just forgot.”Natasha rolls her eyes. Of course Clint would forget something like this.Their anniversary would be this weekend, and if Clint’s track record was anything to go by, if Natasha didn’t help him out, it would be a disaster.





	Apple picking and babysitting

**Author's Note:**

> Back with the next part, hope you enjoy! X

“I’m sorry it’s such short notice, Tasha,” came Clint’s voice on the other end of the line. “I booked it ages ago and I guess I just forgot.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. Of _course_ Clint would forget something like this.

Their anniversary would be this weekend, and if Clint’s track record was anything to go by, if Natasha didn’t help him out, it would be a disaster.

“And you remember how last year was... when I tried to cook,” continues Clint.

Natasha remembers very well, actually, and decides to cut Clint’s rambling short, before he started begging, which, judging by his tone of voice, would be very soon.

“I’ll be there,” she says, and hears Clint’s immense sigh of relief.  
“Thanks, Nat.”  
“Do you mind if I bring Wanda along too?” Natasha finds herself asking.

  
(It’s a reasonable thing to ask, she reckons. Clint knows she’s made her peace with Wanda after the whole Ultron fiasco, so he won’t be suspicious. Hopefully.)

  
“I’m sure she’ll want to see the kids,” she reasons, an excuse ready just in case.  
“Yeah, sure.”  
Natasha smiles.  
“Thanks, Nat,” he says again. “I owe you.”  
“You bet you do,” replies Natasha, hanging up and tossing her duffle bag onto the bed.  
She throws in a random assortment of clothing and then figures she should probably go and tell Wanda the plan, before she made plans for the weekend. She _really_ hoped Wanda didn’t have any plans.

—

The redhead lets herself into Wanda’s room, where she finds her scribbling away in some sort of journal at an unholy speed.

  
“Pack your bags, Wanda,” she says, startling the brunette, who tucks the journal away and looks up.

  
“Where are we going? A mission?” Her eyes narrow slightly. She’s a little more wary of Natasha now, ever since the time she broke into her room through the window to take her on a picnic under the ruse of a mission. _At least_, the witch thought to herself,_ this time, Natasha had the sense to use the door._

“We’re going to Clint’s. Babysitting duty.”

  
Wanda’s mouth forms a wide ‘o’ shape as she stares at Natasha, and Natasha notices an ink smudge on her cheek— probably from where she’d lent on her pen while she was thinking about whatever it was she was writing. Wherever it was from, Natasha finds it adorable.

“How fast do you think you can be ready?”  
Wanda grins back at her, almost in challenge.

Natasha was itching to get going. She may not have expressed it to Clint over the phone, but she was actually delighted to be going back to the farm. She always cherished those moments she got to spend there. Those moments away from the fighting and the missions and espionage that shaped her life. The place, that for her, will always represent belonging and being found.

It’s not long before they’re both on the road, the long journey stretching ahead of them. It’s familiar, this journey. One she’s made on multiple occasions in the past. It’s like going home.

  
And yet somehow, this time is different. This time she has Wanda in tow. It’s the first time they’ve gone together since they started dating. It makes a small wave of anxiety bubble up inside of her because she’s not sure she’s quite ready for Clint and the others to find out about _them_. Telling them would make it even more real, make her even more scared of messing up than she already was.

—

They finally get there and the sky is darkening. They’re both exhausted, Natasha slightly more so from driving the entire way. She hadn’t let Wanda drive, even when she’d insisted; Natasha wanted to get there alive and Wanda’s driving was not yet something you wanted to rely on.

Trudging up the front steps, the doorbell announces their arrival, and the door is promptly thrown open by a wild-eyed who Lila barrels into them, enveloping the two into a hug. The force of it almost knocks the less experienced Wanda to the ground, who staggers, but rights herself just in time, making both Natasha and Lila laugh.

She is followed by Cooper who is slightly more subdued, but Natasha imparts on him an embrace just as strong and by that time Laura is at the door with Nate in her arms and Clint by her side.

“Let them get inside first, you two,” scolds Laura, motioning for the two to come into the crowded hall.

Immediately, Natasha is surrounded by the familiar smells of Laura’s cooking and grass and the washing powder the Barton’s use for their clothes and it’s all just so homely, she doesn’t realise how much she’s missed being here until now.

“You must be exhausted,” continues Laura. “Dinner’s almost ready so why don’t you go on and freshen up. Nat, we’ve kept your room the same as always, and Wanda, you’ve got the room you had last time.”  
“Thanks,” smiles Natasha gratefully as Wanda follows her up the stairs.  
Natasha remembers how the fifth step creaks, and smiles: it feels good to remember these details.

In the quiet of her room, she makes short work of unpacking and moves to the window. Outside the fields stretch for miles and she can see the apple orchard, making out the shadows of the trees in the dark.  
From downstairs, she hears Laura call to Cooper to set the table, and hears Clint’s low laugh at something Lila says to him.

It feels so good to be back.

Dinner, as usual in the Barton household, is a noisy affair.  
Lila is gabbling away to Natasha about school and all the things she’s been up to since Natasha’s last visit. Natasha listens attentively, soaking it all up. To her right, Clint is carving the perfectly roasted chicken, showing off his carving skills to Laura’s frustration. Nate bangs his spoon cheerfully against the table while Wanda and Cooper both try to coax him into eating.  
Luckily, the meal passes without any mishaps. One memory springs to mind where the last time she was here, Nate had hurled mashed potatoes at her (by accident, of course).

But finally comes the time the children have all been waiting for. Wanda and Natasha too, actually. They’re curled up in the living room, cradling mugs of cocoa and the two women tell stories of their missions, albeit highly paraphrased ones to the eagerly listening Lila and Cooper.

Yawns don’t escape unnoticed though, and even Wanda is stifling a yawn when Laura comes in, announcing bedtime.  
“Oww, _please_, just one more story!” Begs Lila from her place with her head in Natasha’s lap.

  
“Tomorrow,” Laura says with finality. “Besides, you two must be tired as well,” she says, addressing Natasha and Wanda.  
Suddenly, it all seems to have descended on Natasha: the weight of her exhaustion from the drive and only getting back from Mongolia a day ago, and moments after crawling into bed, she’s asleep.

—

The morning comes creeping in and Laura is up with the sun, as always.  
She figures she’ll use the time to prepare breakfast (that way there’ll be one less mess to clear up later.)  
She’s passing Wanda’s room when she notices it: the door left open, with no Wanda inside.  
Unusual, she thinks. She listens to the absence of movement, in the house— Only Clint was up, but he was outside, doing the morning rounds of the farm.  
But it’s when she passes Natasha’s door,left ajar, but open enough to see in, that she realises.

She figured it was something like this, but she wonders if Clint knows.  
Probably not, knowing him.

Down in the kitchen, she gets the coffee pot on and makes a start on batter for pancakes.  
By that time, Clint has returned, scraping the mud from his boots.

“Well?” She asks, rounding on him, “you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”  
“It’s a _surprise_, Laura,” Clint reprimands. “You’ll find out when we get there, but I promise you, you won’t be disappointed.” And from somewhere, Laura’s not too sure where from, he produces a bouquet of perfect red roses.  
A tender look passes between the two and Laura moves the flowers aside, pulling Clint the idiot close to her, the archer closing the distance between them and leaning down to kiss her.

They break apart when Laura sees the time: the kids will be up soon, so she sets a grumbling Clint to work.

“So,” begins Laura, “Natasha and Wanda. How long has that been going on for?”  
“How long has what?” Answers Clint, utterly confused, brows furrowed as he stops chopping up strawberries, knife hovering in his hand in midair.  
“Seriously Clint? They’re clearly dating.”  
“_What_?” Clint is incredulous, he almost drops his knife, and just narrowly avoids slicing into his fingers.  
“Honestly,” scoffs Laura. “For someone who’s supposed to be a sharpshooter, you’re not very sharp.”  
“Well how do you know they’re dating? They could just be very good friends,” argues Clint, even though he’s coming round to Laura’s point of view: it would make sense...  
“I just do,” says Laura, falling silent as she hears footsteps approaching.

“Morning,” calls out Natasha, reaching for the coffee and pouring herself a mug before beginning to set the table.  
“You know, I could’ve done this,” drawls out Natasha, shaking her head.  
“No.” Says Laura firmly. “Believe me, you’re already doing enough being here.”

Moments later Wanda appears and this time, the long look that passes between her and Natasha does not go unnoticed, with Laura giving her husband a furtive yet pointed look as if to say ‘I told you so.’

“I don’t suppose either of you will be able to tell me where Clint is taking me?” Asks Laura.  
Wanda shakes her head and Natasha just gives an infuriating smile.  
“I tried,” sighs Laura, going into the hallway to call the children for breakfast.

In no time at all, the stack of pancakes Laura had made is demolished, and Natasha and Wanda begin tidying the kitchen, allowing Laura and Clint to get ready.

  
—

“Enjoy yourselves, we’ll be fine,” assures Natasha, waving them off. “We’ve got a picnic planned and the apples to pick.”  
Cooper and Lila grin and high five: this was going to be a great day.  
“By mum, by dad,” they chorus.  
“Be good,” warns their mother.  
“You’ve said that a million times,” groans Lila.  
“We’re always good,” Cooper informs them, at which Clint snorts.  
“Bye bye,” babbles little Nathaniel, waving his fists from his position in Wanda’s arms.

At long last, they’re gone and Natasha closes the door to the cold autumn air, shaking her head: Laura Barton worries too much.

“Right, you guys go get yourself ready, I’ll take care of the picnic,” Natasha turns back towards the kitchen, going to hunt down the picnic basket and mat.

There’s plenty of chicken left over from yesterday’s roast so she sets to work preparing chicken sandwiches, and a more baby proof version for Nate.

“Want some help?” offers Wanda sidling into the kitchen, placing Nate at the kitchen table with his toy cars and going over to wrap her arm around Natasha’s waist.  
“Sure.”

The basket is packed eventually, containing more food than is probably possible or necessary, and then the five of them are out the door, autumn sunlight bathing their faces.

Lila and Cooper run ahead, first chance they get, shouting to each other and calling to Natasha and Wanda and Nate to hurry up as they tear across the fields to the orchard.

The leaves are beginning to turn from green to golden brown, tinged with reddish hues, and the trees are bedecked with apples, ripe and red and round: ready for picking.  
Ladders and buckets are waiting, and Natasha has to agree, fall is one of her favourite times to be at the Barton farm.

The kids loved apple-picking season, especially with their Auntie Nat, who always made it into some sort of game. She tried to be there as often as possible and loathed the times she missed this.

She had helped Lila to climb her first tree, all those years ago, in this very orchard, and now, she watched proudly as the girl scrambled deftly up the tree, picking apples and throwing them to the ground where Cooper (mostly successfully) would catch them, placing them in the pail.

Nate tottered around picking up the fallen apples, giggling as they fell, and Wanda used wisps of scarlet to keep them from harming him.

A couple of hours later found the five of them were sprawled across the picnic blanket, remnants of the food remaining, surrounded by the overflowing pails of apples: evidence of their hard work.

It was Lila who jumped up first— Natasha recalled she was never one to sit still for long— and grabbed the ball she had bought with her. Nate, seeing her get up, ran to follow his sister, making grabbing motions with his chubby little hands. Cooper, meanwhile, picked out an apple from the bucket, retrieved his book from the picnic hamper, and went to sit in a quiet corner under a tree.

Wanda watched as Lila helped Nathaniel to catch the ball, showing him how to position his hands, throwing the ball gently to him, words of encouragement falling from her lips.  
She smiled, reminded of her own brother, of how he would always try and show her how to do things, insisting on teaching her as he was ‘twelve minutes older than her.’  
She missed that. But she was glad the Barton children would have that, and found herself filled with this strong feeling, this urge to protect them all always. That, she was sure, was what family felt like.

  
“What’cha thinking about, little witch?” Asks Natasha, breaking away from her own thoughts when she sees the faraway look on Wanda’s face.  
“Family,” replies Wanda.  
“Oh?”  
“Pietro,” she expands, “and how lucky Cooper and Lila and Nate are too have each other.”  
“Mmm,” muses Natasha, placing her hand over Wanda’s. She’s about to respond when Nate comes stumbling over to them.

“An’ Nat, ‘m tired,” he says, rubbing his eyes, flinging himself onto Natasha’s lap.  
Natasha scoops him up, rocking him gently.  
“Time to go back, Kroshka?”  
Nate hums in approval and Wanda watches the seen unfold, a tender smile on her face, her whole heart fit to burst at the sight of seeing Natasha soothe the toddler.

“Lila! Cooper! Time to go in now!” Calls Natasha as she hoists Nate over one shoulder and picks up the picnic basket with her free hand. The elder Barton’s and Wanda each carry a pail back, leaves crinkling underfoot as they go.

—

Hot chocolate is warming on the stove when Natasha comes down from putting Nate down for his nap— he had been so tired he was asleep within minutes.

“I think it’s how you usually make it,” says Wanda shyly as she stands, stirring the gently steaming pan.  
“It smells like Auntie Nat’s,” Cooper encourages, and Lila nods, inhaling the smell fondly.  
“I’m sure it’s even better,” assures Natasha with a wink as she watches Wanda pour out four mugs, one hand at the small of her back.  
It fills them all with an instant warmth that is much needed after spending the majority of the day in the autumn chill.

“Right, we’ve got all these apples... who’s up for apple pie?” Asks Natasha, breaking the silence and tossing an apple to Lila, who catches it with one hand and takes a bite.

Cooper and Lila erupt into cheers, skipping around the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you made pie as well, Nat,” says Wanda.  
“Yes and it’s the best in the whole entire world!” Brags Lila, answering for Natasha.  
“Well I don’t know about that...”  
“Oh come on Auntie Nat, it won that competition a couple years ago.”  
“You entered a pie competition?” Asks wanda, amused. After all, it’s not every day you hear about a Russian assassin who enters pie competitions.

“Yes, and if you tell anyone else... it won’t be pleasant,” promises the former assassin.  
Wanda just rolls her eyes and helps empty the pails of apples into the sink.

“Cooper, you and Lila are in charge of washing the apples, Wanda, will you start peeling and dicing them while I make the pastry dough.” She didn’t trust anyone to make the dough— if the dough went wrong, the whole pie would be ruined.  
Soon enough, the kitchen is filled with the clatter of utensils and pleasant chatter as the pile of washed apples grows on the counter.

The sound of socked feet on the floor alert the others to Nate’s presence as he waddled into the kitchen.

  
“You feeling better, Nate?” Asks Natasha, smiling at him.  
“Mhmm,” supplies the toddler. “What making?” He asks, peering curiously at his siblings and Wanda.  
“Apple pie. Wanna help?”  
He nods back and Natasha picks him up and places him at the table before going to the cupboard and getting out a couple of pie tins and the cookie cutters.  
“Ok, Nate, you can make the decorations for the top of the pie... what would you like?”  
“Dinosaur!” Yells Nate, picking up the dinosaur cutter and bashing it against the side of the kitchen table to illustrate his point.  
“Sure,” laughs Natasha, breaking off a piece of dough for him as Lila and Cooper come over.

“Apples are all washed,” reports Lila, “What should we do now?”  
“You two can roll out the pastry for both pies— top and bottom. Make sure it’s thin, but not too thin that it’s see through. Oh, and use lots of flour,” she directs before turning back to help Wanda finish chopping the apples, grinning widely.  
She couldn’t think of a better way to spend the afternoon.

“Okay, I think we’re almost done here, should be ready to start cooking down the apples,” says Natasha to Wanda as she hunts for a large enough pan.  
“Alright, what can I do now?”  
“Would you mind getting out cinnamon, allspice, sultanas and sugar?”  
“Sure,” Wanda replies, going over to the larder as Natasha adds butter to the simmering pan of chopped apple.  
It’s not long before Wanda finds the ingredients Natasha’s asked for, and they’re levitating around the kitchen, suspended by wisps of scarlet magic, to Nate’s utter delight as he coos at them, clapping his hands and trying to grab at them.  
Seeing that makes a warmth pool in Natasha’s stomach as she smiles at how good Wanda is with the kids. So when Wanda finally turns back to hand her the ingredients, she plants a kiss to her lips.  
It’s fleeting, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by Lila, who sees it all and turns to Cooper.

“Did you see that?” She hisses, as quietly as she can to avoid being overheard.  
“Auntie Nat just kissed Auntie Wanda!”  
Cooper shrugs.  
“Yes, but on the _lips_, not the cheek like she does to you or me or Nate.”  
“Well I guess they love each other,” says Cooper practically.  
“Like mum and dad?”  
“I guess so.”  
“Hey, do you think they’ll get married?” Lila asks, eyes shining; she’d never been to a wedding and Emma Clark from school had been boasting about how she was flower girl at her cousin’s wedding. Maybe she would be flower girl for Auntie Nat.  
“Maybe,” begins Cooper, but he’s interrupted:  
“What are you two whispering about?” Natasha eyes them suspiciously.

“Nothing,” they both say at the same time while all the while Lila’s eyes are dancing with happiness at the newfound knowledge she had stumbled upon.

Natasha just turns back to the pan simmering over the stove. “Kids,” she mutters, shaking her head.

The aroma of fall and cinnamon encircles the room and the sun is beginning to set, bathing the room in a pink-orange glow. Lila smiles comfortably: everything was as it should be.

The mixture is ready and cooled in the pie tin when Natasha hears the sounds of a key turning in the lock and thanks the stars that there was no major incident with the flour.

“We’re back,” Clint calls out.  
“Kitchen!” Yells Natasha, closing the oven door to allow it to heat up.  
“Something smells good,” remarks Clint, sauntering in.  
“Apple pie!” Shouts Cooper with excitement as Laura appears in the doorway.

“Were you all good?” She asks, looking pointedly from Natasha to Wanda.

“Yes!” All three of them chorused.  
“They were fine,” assures Natasha, “I don’t know what you worry about.”

“Mama!” Cries out Nathaniel, hurling himself at Laura who, despite the fact she’s wearing a dress that will undoubtedly be very hard to clean the pastry dough stains and the flour out of, picks him up, gathering him close to her.  
“Did you have a good day?”  
“Yeah,” He nods, wriggling excitedly.  
And then Laura examines him.  
“You, mister, need a bath,” she tells him firmly, trying to dust flour from his hair.  
“No bath! No bath!” Chants Nate, squirming, trying to escape from his mother’s arms.  
“Well if you don’t have a bath, you won’t be able to have any of the pie,” reasons Laura, knowing that will get him.  
“Okay,” huffs Nate, defeated.  
“You two as well,” Laura says, eyeing Cooper and Lila.  
“But we need to finish decorating the pie!” Protests Lila, gesturing to all the cut out pastry shapes they had made to go atop the pie.  
“Alright, finish that off and then _both_ of you come upstairs,” Laura tells them firmly.

Wanda offers her help to Laura and is promptly dragged of by Nate, who is gabbling away about bubbles and his favourite rubber duck he had christened “Billy.”

Soon after, Lila and Cooper hand Natasha both pies, adorned with flowers and dinosaurs and animals and all sorts of undeterminable shapes.  
“Those look amazing,” she tells them honestly, praising their hard work.  
She puts them into the already-hot oven and the two scamper upstairs to where their baths are waiting.

Natasha busies herself cleaning up the kitchen, endeavouring to restore it to some kind of order that resembled how it had looked in the morning, when Clint comes in, offering his help, and Natasha puts him on dish washing duty.  
“You sure they were alright?” He asks.  
“They were perfectly fine. They always are: I don’t know why you worry so much.”  
“Because I know that they’re truly terrors,” jokes Clint.  
“Yeah right.”

They continue on in silence, Clint washing, Natasha drying, until the archer breaks the silence.

“So, you and Wanda, huh?”  
The plate Natasha is drying almost slips out of her hand; she’s caught off guard.  
“What about her and me?” Asks Natasha, recovering, deciding not to let on about anything. Were they really that obvious?  
“It’s obvious, Natasha, and you know what I mean.”  
Apparently they were.  
Well this was it then.  
“It’s nice, really Nat, I’m happy for you,” says Clint, trying to hug her with his wet hands.  
She tries to duck. It’s unsuccessful, and she gets covered with soap suds.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” is all Natasha manages, although the sound is muffled into Clint’s shoulder, where he’s still holding her tight.  
“Well, it was Laura actually,” he confesses, releasing her.  
“Of course it was,” realises Natasha, because Clint surely wasn’t _that_ observant.  
“Does anyone else know?” He asks, guessing not, he knows how guarded Natasha is.  
“Just Steve, But he found out accidentally. Apart from that, no one else.”

“We haven’t... I mean, I haven’t wanted to tell anyone because, if I’m honest, I’m terrified,” she begins, not entirely sure where she’s going with this explanation.

“Natasha Romanoff, afraid,” jokes Clint, “there’s a first.”  
He sobers up when Natasha hits him with the dish cloth.

“Continue,” he says, raising his hands in surrender, and Natasha composes herself.

“It’s just, well, telling someone else, having it out in the open, it makes it so real and I don’t want to let her down. I- she means so much to me Clint, and oh God I sound like such a stupid cliche, but I just don’t want to mess it up for us— for her. You know my past, Clint, I wasn’t made for this.”

“Natasha, breathe,” says Clint, firm hands steadying her.

He doesn’t comment on her uncharacteristic verbalisation, for which Natasha is extremely grateful for. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says what he needs to say. What Natasha sorely needs to hear.

“I’m going to say this only once, but you need to trust me on this: you’re not going to mess this up, I know. You’re not going to let her down. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and now it all makes sense. You might think that because of whatever happened in your past, you’re incapable of loving, that you don’t deserve it yourself. But you’re wrong. So very wrong. I see you with the kids and with the other guys on the team and now with Wanda and I know that’s not true. Nat, you are the strongest person I know, so just please trust me on this: you are going to be fine.”

He clasps her hand in his, brown eyes meet green, and she knows, deep down, that he’s right. Those words, she didn’t even know she needed to hear them until just now.  
It was probably foolish of her, to need such reassurance. Some might have even said weak. But she’ll always be grateful for Clint. First, because he had saved her all those years ago, then for sticking by her, and now, for this.

  
For giving her this clarity and _hope_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
As always, any feedback is much appreciated x


End file.
